


We'll never know home

by Circ_a



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Kingsguard!Jon, Post - ADWD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circ_a/pseuds/Circ_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis takes Jon to Storm's End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll never know home

This dreary and grey and wet land almost reminded Jon Snow of Winterfell. Though where summer snows would blanket Winterfell in white, the raging seas of the Stormlands reached up to the stronghold of Storm's End and battered the walls with clear mists of water. The seas were rough here no matter the weather; an overcast usually hung in the sky and from time to time the sun would peak from behind the deep grey clouds and kiss the ancient castle walls.

Jon looked out of a window and watched the waves curl and crash down on the shore; what little daylight they had was disappearing as storm clouds knitted together. It was an eerie sight, but inside of the walls of the castle, Jon felt himself relaxing as the first rains of the day began to fall. He jumped at the sound of one clearing their throat right beside his ear. His white armor clanked softly as he pivoted and met dark blue eyes, though they weren't on him.

"What do you see, Snow." Stannis Baratheon's voice was low and lacked that stern tone that it always had.

Jon turned his back to his king and put his bare hands on the cool stone windowsill, gaze following the soft rain that fell into the water below. "Your home."

Stannis snorted. His footsteps reverberated in the large, quiet Hall as he made his way over to the head of the feasting table and sat, fingers together under his chin. "Join me," he called.

The hem of Jon's white cowl swished on the dirty floor as he walked and sat to the right of his king.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

Perhaps it would've been beautiful if it were restored -- though Jon said "Quite, Your Grace." The hall was mostly empty save for the large dusty table and the few chairs that aligned its sides. Tapestries of the crowned Stag of Baratheon were faded on the walls and candle holders were overflowing with dried white wax. The little light that seeped through the tall windows gave the Hall a dusky look.

Stannis eyed Jon for a beat before he threw his hands into the air -- dust rising with them. "The infamous Storm's End!" Thunder crackled at their backs. "The seat of the powerful house Baratheon; my home." His tone was mocking and Jon pursed his lips.

"This was no home to me. Maybe to Robert or to Renly, but never to me. I might as well have been a bastard." Jon chewed the inside of his cheek, holding his tongue and letting his king continue.

"What about you boy?" Stannis stood and went to a window over ten feet in length. His hands were behind his back and his shoulders squared.

Jon didn't respond, instead he looked at Stannis' sillohute; a tall dark figure in the light of the lightning that thrashes across the sky.

Jon had been surprised when Stannis insisted that he travel to Storm's End with him rather than another member of his kingsguard. It had been on a vim and his king was not one for spontaneity . They had sailed alone besides a few sailors that kept to the ship. Jon didn't understand why Stannis wanted to come back to this dead, abandoned castle.

"Your king asked you a question." His voice was tense and he kept his back to Jon. Jon got to his feet and went to stand next to Stannis. His king looked down at him for a moment before his eyes went back to the water.

"Pardons, Your Grace," Jon cleared his throat. "Winterfell always felt like home."

He snorted once more. "Liar. A bastard has no home."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "I may be a bastard, but Winterfell --"

Stannis rounded on him. "And what made it home, Snow? How is it that home is a place to those who are unwelcome?" Jon struggled to keep his composure in check -- his eyes stay on Stannis. "Robb and Arya and my Father. That is what made it home." And he spoke true. Lord Stark had never let him feel baseborn when Catelyn wasn't around. Robb and Arya treated him as if he were a full-blood brother to them. And there were others, Ser Rodrick and Maester Luwin had always taught him well in arms and literacy and even Mikken was fond of him; letting Jon swing and hack at dummies in the practice yard to test the weight and sharpness of a blade that had just been forged.

"My brother's, never treated me like the full-blood that I am. I was the Baratheon that knew not how to laugh or to smile, but brood and sulk." He hissed the last word. "Storm's End, Dragonstone, Kings Landing; I have lived in all three but none feels like home."

Jon put a hand on Stannis' doublet-clad shoulder. He understood that one simply should not just touch their king, but something about this was different. Stannis never talked much to Jon or any for that matter. Stannis was _opening_  up to him.

Stannis didn't move Jon's hand, he swallowed and his eyes fall towards him. For a moment, Jon swore he could see years of vulnerability and repressed emotion. It left as quick as it came.

"You may leave, Snow."

Jon let his hand slide down Stannis arm -- Stannis' quiet intake of breath not going unnoticed. "Go."

Jon took one last look at the quickening storm that spat salt and water in every direction. He then took his leave, glancing over his shoulder to see Stannis with his face in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:Stannis takes Jon to see Storm's End (I guess this would work best with Kingsguard!Jon). They bond over homes that were never really theirs and never really will be.


End file.
